Complete Works of L. Frank Baum

by L. Frank Baum

  It was three days after the arrival of Mrs. Denton and her mother — whose advent had accomplished much toward promoting the young Belgian’s convalescence — when little Maurie suddenly reappeared on the deck of the Arabella.

  “Oh,” said Patsy, finding him there when she came up from breakfast, “where is Clarette?”

  He shook his head sadly.

  “We do not live together, just now,” said he. “Clarette is by nature temperamental, you know; she is highly sensitive, and I, alas! do not always please her.”

  “Did she find you in Dunkirk?” asked the girl.

  “Almost, mamselle, but not quite. It was this way: I knew if I permitted her to follow me she would finally succeed in her quest, for she and the dear children have six eyes among them, while I have but two; so I reposed within an ash-barrel until they had passed on, and then I followed them, keeping well out of their sight. In that way I managed to escape. But it proved a hard task, for my Clarette is very persistent, as you may have noticed. So I decided I would be more safe upon the ship than upon the shore. She is not likely to seek me here, and in any event she floats better than she swims.”

  Patsy regarded the little man curiously.

  “Did you not tell us, when first we met you, that you were heart-broken over the separation from your wife and children?” she inquired in severe tones.

  “Yes, of course, mamselle; it was a good way to arouse your sympathy,” he admitted with an air of pride. “I needed sympathy at that time, and my only fear was that you would find Clarette, as you threatened to do. Well,” with a deep sigh, “you did find her. It was an unfriendly act, mamselle.”

  “They told us in Ostend that the husband of Clarette is a condemned spy, one who served both sides and proved false to each. The husband of Clarette is doomed to suffer death at the hands of the Germans or the Belgians, if either is able to discover him.”

  Maurie removed his cap and scratched the hair over his left ear reflectively.

  “Ah, yes, the blacksmith!” said he. “I suspected that blacksmith fellow was not reliable.”

  “How many husbands has Clarette?”

  “With the blacksmith, there are two of us,” answered Maurie, brightly. “Doubtless there would be more if anything happened to me, for Clarette is very fascinating. When she divorced the blacksmith he was disconsolate, and threatened vengeance; so her life is quite occupied in avoiding her first husband and keeping track of her second, who is too kind-hearted to threaten her as the blacksmith did. I really admire Clarette — at a distance. She is positively charming when her mind is free from worry — and the children are asleep.”

  “Then you think,” said Ajo, who was standing by and listening to Maurie’s labored explanations, “that it is the blacksmith who is condemned as a spy, and not yourself?”

  “I am quite sure of it. Am I not here, driving your ambulance and going boldly among the officers? If it is Jakob Maurie they wish, he is at hand to be arrested.”

  “But you are not Jakob Maurie.”

  The Belgian gave a start, but instantly recovering he answered with a smile:

  “Then I must have mistaken my identity, monsieur. Perhaps you will tell me who I am?”

  “Your wife called you ‘Henri,’“ said Patsy.

  “Ah, yes; a pet name. I believe the blacksmith is named Henri, and poor Clarette is so accustomed to it that she calls me Henri when she wishes to be affectionate.”

  Patsy realized the folly of arguing with him.

  “Maurie,” said she, “or whatever your name may be, you have been faithful in your duty to us and we have no cause for complaint. But I believe you do not speak the truth, and that you are shifty and artful. I fear you will come to a bad end.”

  “Sometimes, mamselle,” he replied, “I fear so myself. But, peste! why should we care? If it is the end, what matter whether it is good or bad?”

  Watching their faces closely, he saw frank disapproval of his sentiments written thereon. It disturbed him somewhat that they did not choose to continue the conversation, so he said meekly:

  “With your kind permission, I will now go below for a cup of coffee,” and left them with a bow and a flourish of his cap. When he had gone Patsy said to Ajo:

  “I don’t believe there is any such person as the blacksmith.”

  “Nor I,” was the boy’s reply. “Both those children are living images of Maurie, who claims the blacksmith was their father. He’s a crafty little fellow, that chauffeur of ours, and we must look out for him.”

  “If he is really a spy,” continued the girl, after a brief period of thought, “I am amazed that he dared join our party and go directly to the front, where he is at any time likely to be recognized.”

  “Yes, that is certainly puzzling,” returned Ajo. “And he’s a brave little man, too, fearless of danger and reckless in exposing himself to shot and shell. Indeed, our Maurie is something of a mystery and the only thing I fully understand is his objection to Clarette’s society.”

  At “le revue matin,” as the girls called the first inspection of the morning, eight of their patients were found sufficiently recovered to be discharged. Some of these returned to their regiments and others were sent to their homes to await complete recovery. The hospital ship could accommodate ten more patients, so it was decided to make a trip to Dixmude, where an artillery engagement was raging, with the larger ambulance.

  “I think I shall go to-day,” announced Gys, who was wearing his mask. “Dr. Kelsey can look after the patients and it will do me good to get off the ship.”

  Uncle John looked at the doctor seriously.

  “There is hard fighting, they say, in the Dixmude district. The Germans carried the British trenches yesterday, and to-day the Allies will try to retake them.”

  “I don’t mind,” returned the doctor, but he shuddered, nevertheless.

  “Why don’t you avoid the — the danger line?” suggested Mr. Merrick.

  “A man can’t run away from himself, sir; and perhaps you can understand the fascination I find in taunting the craven spirit within me.”

  “No, I can’t understand it. But suit yourself.”

  “I shall drive,” announced Maurie.

  “You may be recognized,” said Patsy warningly.

  “Clarette will not be at the front, and on the way I shall be driving. Have you noticed how people scatter at the sound of our gong?”

  “The authorities are watching for spies,” asserted Ajo.

  Maurie’s face became solemn.

  “Yes; of course. But — the blacksmith is not here, and,” he added with assurance, “the badge of the Red Cross protects us from false accusations.”

  When they had gone Uncle John said thoughtfully to the girls:

  “That remark about the Red Cross impressed me. If that fellow Maurie is really in danger of being arrested and shot, he has cleverly placed himself in the safest service in the world. He knows that none of our party is liable to be suspected of evil.”

  CHAPTER XVIII

  A QUESTION OF LOYALTY

  During the morning they were visited by a French official who came aboard in a government boat and asked to see Mr. Merrick.

  The ship had been inspected several times by the commander of the port and the civil authorities, and its fame as a model hospital had spread over all Flanders. Some attempt had been made to place with the Americans the most important of the wounded — officers of high rank or those of social prominence and wealth — but Mr. Merrick and his aids were determined to show no partiality. They received the lowly and humble as well as the high and mighty and the only requisite for admission was an injury that demanded the care of good nurses and the skill of competent surgeons.

  Uncle John knew the French general and greeted him warmly, for he appreciated his generous co-operation. But Beth had to be called in to interpret because her uncle knew so little of the native language.

  First they paid a visit to the hospital section, where the
patients were inspected. Then the register and records were carefully gone over and notes taken by the general’s secretary. Finally they returned to the after-deck to review the convalescents who were lounging there in their cushioned deck-chairs.

  “Where is the German, Lieutenant Elbl?” inquired the general, looking around with sudden suspicion.

  “In the captain’s room,” replied Beth. “Would you like to see him?”

  “If you please.”

  The group moved forward to the room occupied by Captain Carg. The door and windows stood open and reclining upon a couch inside was the maimed German, with Carg sitting beside him. Both were solemnly smoking their pipes.

  The captain rose as the general entered, while Elbl gave his visitor a military salute.

  “So you are better?” asked the Frenchman.

  Beth repeated this in English to Carg, who repeated it in German to Elbl. Yes, the wounded man was doing very well.

  “Will you keep him here much longer?” was the next question, directed to Mr. Merrick.

  “I think so,” was the reply. “He is still quite weak, although the wound is healing nicely. Being a military prisoner, there is no other place open to him where the man can be as comfortable as here.”

  “You will be responsible for his person? You will guarantee that he will not escape?”

  Mr. Merrick hesitated.

  “Must we promise that?” he inquired.

  “Otherwise I shall be obliged to remove him to a government hospital.”

  “I don’t like that. Not that your hospitals are not good enough for a prisoner, but Elbl happens to be a cousin of our captain, which puts a different face on the matter. What do you say, Captain Carg? Shall we guarantee that your cousin will not try to escape?”

  “Why should he, sir? He can never rejoin the army, that’s certain,” replied Carg.

  “True,” said the general, when this was conveyed to him by Beth. “Nevertheless, he is a prisoner of war, and must not be allowed to escape to his own people.”

  Beth answered the Frenchman herself, looking him straight in the face.

  “That strikes me as unfair, sir,” said she. “The German must henceforth be a noncombatant. He has been unable, since he was wounded and brought here, to learn any of your military secrets and at the best he will lie a helpless invalid for weeks to come. Therefore, instead of making him a prisoner, it would be more humane to permit him to return to his home and family in Germany.”

  The general smiled indulgently.

  “It might be more humane, mademoiselle, but unfortunately it is against the military code. Did I understand that your captain will guarantee the German’s safety?”

  “Of course,” said Carg. “If he escapes, I will surrender myself in his place.”

  “Ah; but we moderns cannot accept Pythias if Damon runs away,” laughed the general. “But, there; it will be simpler to send a parole for him to sign, when he may be left in your charge until he is sufficiently recovered to bear the confinement of a prison. Is that satisfactory?”

  “Certainly, sir,” replied the captain.

  Elbl had remained silent during this conversation, appearing not to understand the French and English spoken. Indeed, since his arrival he had only spoken the German language, and that mostly in his intercourse with Carg. But after the French officer had gone away Beth began to reflect upon this reticence.

  “Isn’t it queer,” she remarked to Uncle John, “that an educated German — one who has been through college, as Captain Carg says Elbl has — should be unable to understand either French or English? I have always been told the German colleges are very thorough and you know that while at Ostend we found nearly all the German officers spoke good English.”

  “It is rather strange, come to think of it,” answered Uncle John. “I believe the study of languages is a part of the German military education. But I regret that the French are determined to keep the poor fellow a prisoner. Such a precaution is absurd, to my mind.”

  “I think I can understand the French position,” said the girl, reflectively. “These Germans are very obstinate, and much as I admire Lieutenant Elbl I feel sure that were he able he would fight the French again to-morrow. After his recovery he might even get one of those mechanical feet and be back on the firing line.”

  “He’s a Uhlan.”

  “Then he could ride a horse. I believe, Uncle, the French are justified in retaining him as a prisoner until the war is over.”

  Meantime, in the captain’s room the two men were quietly conversing.

  “He wants you to sign a parole,” said Carg.

  “Not I.”

  “You may as well. I’m responsible for your safety.”

  “I deny anyone’s right to be responsible for me. If you have made a promise to that effect, withdraw it,” said the German.

  “If I do, they’ll put you in prison.”

  “Not at present. I am still an invalid. In reality. I am weak and suffering. Yet I am already planning my escape, and that is why I insist that you withdraw any promise you have made. Otherwise — ”

  “Otherwise?”

  “Instead of escaping by water, as I had intended, to Ostend, I must go to the prison and escape from there. It will be more difficult. The water route is best.”

  “Of course,” agreed the captain, smiling calmly.

  “One of your launches would carry me to Ostend and return here between dark and daylight.”

  “Easily enough,” said Carg. It was five minutes before he resumed his speech. Then he said with quiet deliberation: “Cousin, I am an American, and Americans are neutral in this war.”

  “You are Sangoan.”

  “My ship is chartered by Americans, which obliges the captain of the ship to be loyal to its masters. I will do nothing to conflict with the interests of the Americans, not even to favor my cousin.”

  “Quite right,” said Elbl.

  “If you have any plan of escape in mind, do not tell me of it,” continued the captain. “I shall order the launches guarded carefully. I shall do all in my power to prevent your getting away from this ship.”

  “Thank you,” said the German. “You have my respect, cousin. Pass the tobacco.”

  CHAPTER XIX

  THE CAPTURE

  There was considerable excitement when the ambulance returned. Part of the roof had been torn away, the doors were gone, the interior wrecked and not a pane of glass remained in the sides; yet Ajo drove it to the dock, the motor working as smoothly as ever, and half a dozen wounded were helped out and put into the launch to be taken aboard the hospital ship.

  When all were on deck, young Jones briefly explained what had happened. A shell had struck the ambulance, which had been left in the rear, but without injuring the motor in any way. Fortunately no one was near at the time. When they returned they cleared away the rubbish to make room for a few wounded men and then started back to the city.

  Doctor Gys, hatless and coatless, his hair awry and the mask making him look more hideous than ever, returned with the party and came creeping up the ship’s ladder in so nervous a condition that his trembling knees fairly knocked together.

  The group around Ajo watched him silently.

  “What do you think that fool did?” asked the boy, as Gys slunk away to his room.

  “Tell us,” pleaded Patsy, who was one of the curious group surrounding him.

  “We had gone near to where a machine gun was planted, to pick up a fallen soldier, when without warning the Germans charged the gun. Maurie and I made a run for life, but Gys stood stock still, facing the enemy. A man at the gun reeled and fell, just then, and with a hail of bullets flying around him the doctor coolly walked up and bent over him. The sight so amazed the Germans that they actually stopped fighting and waited for him. Perhaps it was the Red Cross on the doctor’s arm that influenced them, but imagine a body of soldiers in the heat of a charge suddenly stopping because of one man!”

  “Well, what ha
ppened?” asked Mr. Merrick.

  “I couldn’t see very well, for a battery that supported the charge was shelling the retreating Allies and just then our ambulance was hit. But Maurie says he watched the scene and that when Gys attempted to lift the wounded man up he suddenly turned weak as water. The Germans had captured the gun, by this time, and their officer himself hoisted the injured man upon the doctor’s shoulders and attended him to our ambulance. When I saw the fight was over I hastened to help Gys, who staggered so weakly that he would have dropped his man a dozen times on the way had not the Germans held him up. They were laughing, as if the whole thing was a joke, when crack! came a volley of bullets and with a great shout back rushed the French and Belgians in a counter-charge. I admit I ducked, crawling under the ambulance, and the Germans were so surprised that they beat a quick retreat.

  “And now it was that Gys made a fool of himself. He tore off his cap and coat, which bore the Red Cross emblem, and leaped right between the two lines. Here were the Germans, firing as they retreated, and the Allies firing as they charged, and right in the center of the fray stood Gys. The man ought to have been shot to pieces, but nothing touched him until a Frenchman knocked him over because he was in the way of the rush. It was the most reckless, suicidal act I ever heard of!”

  Uncle John looked worried. He had never told any of them of Dr. Gys’ strange remark during their first interview, but he had not forgotten it. “I’ll be happier when I can shake off this horrible envelope of disfigurement,” the doctor had declared, and in view of this the report of that day’s adventure gave the kind-hearted gentleman a severe shock.

  He walked the deck thoughtfully while the girls hurried below to look after the new patients who had been brought, not too comfortably, in the damaged ambulance. “It was a bad fight,” Ajo had reported, “and the wounded were thick, but we could only bring a few of them. Before we left the field, however, an English ambulance and two French ones arrived, and that gave us an opportunity to get away. Indeed, I was so unnerved by the dangers we had miraculously escaped that I was glad to be out of it.”